The Will of the Wisps - on hiatus until further notice
by DracoTerrae
Summary: With his kingdom falling to darkness, Jake Griffin barely managed to escape to another world, his young daughter, Clarke in tow. Twenty years later, Clarke wanders a little off the designated trails and stumbles into the very world her father left behind, now desolate and under shadow. Clarke with her ragtag group of friends work together to fight the source of the darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**A Long and Rambling Author's Note:**  
 **New year, new story. My next big project that's been knocking around in my brain-filled-mind for a while. And now I am finally putting fingers to keyboard. From the current outlook, this story will be a fantasy epic adventure, filled with the characters we all love (and those love to hate). But as those of you who have read my other stories (and especially as my beta knows), stories tend to get away from me, evolving into things I never anticipated. I'll have you know, "All My Friends Are Heathens" (my previous big project) did not end up where I had thought it would when first plotting it out. But, nonetheless, I am oh so happy with the end result there and I'm hoping it will be the same deal here.**  
 **Anyway, welcome all. And I hope you enjoy.**

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 _A blonde man rushed through the trees. Roots and brambles jumped out as he ran, reaching forward as if purposefully trying to trip him. His hand clutched that of his four-year-old daughter; he tried to keep them both on their feet and moving forward, but time was of the essence and he wasn't sure they were going to make it. Darkness filled the air as thunder rolled through the sky ominously._

 _"We're moving too slow," he muttered and swung his daughter into his arms. The gateway couldn't be too far from them now. They just had to get there and pass through it. They'd be safe then…he hoped._

 _"Where are we going, Daddy?" the small child asked, confused and frightened. "Where's Mama?" It wasn't the first time she had asked, but he didn't know how to answer. How to tell her that her mother was involved in a plot to kill him and steal the throne. A plot that called for the blood sacrifice of everyone of the royal bloodline, namely her husband and their only daughter._

 _He couldn't. So instead, he hurried along with hushed reassurances, giving her a squeeze and hoping it lent even an ounce of comfort._

 _Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the clearing before him. "Finally," he said, hurrying forward, a heavy weight lifting off his chest. The contingency plan was in place, had been for centuries. He was just the first ruler, possibly in all of written history, to use it._

 _The veil was nothing more than a glimmer of light to the unknowing eye. If he hadn't been taught, or if he missed the few inconspicuous markers of stones and the mushroom circle, he wouldn't have seen it. He barreled forward with only but a moment's hesitation. There was a chance this wouldn't work, or a chance he was making the wrong choice in running. He looked down to the bright blue eyes of his daughter. One look at her innocence and he knew he had to protect her. This was their best and only option._

 _Barely catching himself from a fall as he crossed through, he stood up on the other side of the veil. Here, the sun was peeking brightly through the trees above, not a raincloud in sight. He heaved a sigh of relief. They were safe. He allowed himself to smile down at his daughter whose fear had, at least briefly, given way to wonder at the new world they were standing in._

 _"You're not allowed in this realm without—oh, Your Highness, I beg your pardon." A dark-haired woman whom he had initially missed, quickly dropped into a deep curtsey upon recognizing him. Behind her, a girl who liked to be around the same age as his daughter stared wide-eyed at the people whom had appeared out of thin air._

 _He took a breath and gestured for the woman to stand. He let out a jagged breath, the full weight of his decision coming to rest. "No more titles. I am only Jake in this world."_

 _The woman looked up in concern, brow furrowed with questions._

 _"Arcadia has fallen," he told her grievously. "A dark power has taken hold of the land…I found out too late. The only thing I could do was flee. Flee and attempt to save my daughter's life."_

 ***Twenty Years Later***

Clarke sat on her bed, her laptop open in front of her, but she wasn't typing. Instead she watched out the window, listening to the rain patter down. It had been like this all night, and while some people disliked storms, or even feared them, Clarke loved every minute of every type of rain, but especially storms like the one that was brewing in the distance. There was something comforting in the pitter-pat of raindrops, the roaring of the sky, the brilliant flashes that turned night into day if only for a second.

She smiled contentedly as she looked out her window, musing on what she should put in her illustrator bio for the latest book in the Maxwell series. In the previous ones she had simply been a name on the cover pages, but the author and publisher wanted a little more given the contract they had just signed that named her the illustrator the rest of the series.

Glancing at the computer she half-read, half-recited from memory what it said: "Clarke Griffin lives in the same house she grew up in the northwoods of Wisconsin. When she's not drawing Maxwell and his Might Knights, she's wandering the woods looking for inspiration, sitting at the local diner eating the best pancakes known to exist (in her opinion at least), or tending to her extensive garden."

It summed up her mundane life in a two sentences. And it wasn't as though she didn't thoroughly enjoy living in this house or this town, it just seemed somewhat stagnant. She sighed a looked out the window one more.

Then something subtly caught her attention. She strained her ears. There was a noise, something just out of reach hidden amongst the sound of the rain. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was there. She tried to listen closer, cocking her head slightly, but the elusive noise slipped further away. It was a continuous noise, a little nuanced, a little musical, some give and some take, like a quiet conversation of tinkering voices whispering just on the edge of her hearing.

Her first thought brought a broader smile to her face: faeries or sprites or some other creature from the realm just beyond the veil. She had grown up both reading and listening to stories about faeries and fantasy stories, it was really no wonder that that's where her mind went. She shook her head, she was twenty-four years old, it was long past time to still be believing in faeries. But yet that small little part of her urged her not to give up on that belief; that she just had to listen a little harder and she would be able to understand what the sprites were saying.

She looked at the clock and stifled a sigh, 1:07 A.M. long past when she should have gone to bed. Marking her page, she closed the book in her lap and placed it on the bedside table before turning off the light and tucking herself under the covers. She fell asleep to the lulling sounds of the oncoming storm mixing with the quiet voices hidden in the rain.

The next morning, Clarke rolled out of bed and got ready to head to the diner that definitely lived up to the small town cliché. As she walked out her front door, she looked briefly toward the path that led into the trees. Her house backed onto the forest preserve, and she had grown up wandering among the trees and down the trails.

She only had faint memories of her home before this one, when she lived with her mother. All she recalled was a huge house full of nooks and crannies, and lots of yard in which to play. Her father had always gone a little quiet when she asked about the time before they moved to Bridgewater, so eventually she just stopped asking. As curious as she was about her mother and her life before age four, in the end, she wouldn't change how or where she grew up. Her dad was a wonderful father and Bridgewater a cozy community; she'd had a happy childhood.

Just as she turned to go down the sidewalk and into town, she saw an orb of light floating amongst the trees, beckoning her. It wasn't the first time she had seen a will-o'-the-wisps, and she highly doubted it would be the last. It recalled to mind the voices in the rain from the night before, but she shrugged both off. Little fantastical things like that were a fact of life for her.

When she was six, she'd come in from recess with a flower crown she found waiting in her favorite hiding spot on the playground. That wouldn't mean too much by itself; maybe a secret crush or some other mundane explanation. But her crown would always stay intact all day, not even wilting before bedtime.

When she was ten, she found a small sparrow that had fallen out of its nest before it had learned to fly. She and her father nursed it back to health. And to this day she swears she still sees that same sparrow flying by and landing on her window sill to sing her a special song.

When she was fourteen, she decided to be friends with the girl that everyone had decided to shun, simply because she wore more hand-me-downs from her older brother than new department store clothing. Once, a group of bullies were coming to give them a hard time when their leader tripped over the roots of a nearby tree and face-planted into a puddle of mud. The twittering laughter that accompanied the fall, seemed to come from the trees as much as the school children.

Then, when she was seventeen and her dad was killed in a car crash, there would be little things that were kind of like a pick-me-up, just for her. And maybe for her dad, too. Every flower in their garden bloomed, and stayed at full-bloom for a week. And the little calming rain that she and her dad so enjoyed, sprinkled down around her at his funeral.

She never really told anyone about the wisps or the voices, the flowers and the like, at least not anymore. When she was younger, teachers would applaud her for her "vivid imagination" whenever she brought it up. And the other kids tried to come up with their own faerie experiences, but Clarke never really saw any truth in anyone's claims but hers. Though Octavia was the one who mentioned the twinkling laughter in the trees, not Clarke, when they told the story of recess to Jake.

Clarke shook herself out of her thoughts as she entered the diner and slid into her favorite booth.

"The usual?" Gina greeted from behind the counter, barely even waiting for the affirmative before shouting the order to the cook.

Clarke smiled to herself and brought her tablet and stylus out of her bag and began to work on her latest illustration.

"What's new, chickadee?" Octavia plunked herself down on the other side of the table.

Clarke took a dramatic pause and pretended to give it some thought, before shaking her head with a smile. "Absolutely nothing. Just working on some ideas for the next Maxwell and his Might Knights book."

"You're so boring. This whole town is boring. Nothing ever happens here," she pouted.

"You can always leave, you know? I'd miss you, but you've been talking about how boring Bridgewater is since we were kids."

"I can't leave," Octavia looked bitter, but didn't offer up any further explanation.

"Because of your brother? I'm sure Bellamy would understand." She thought for a second. "Or he'd at least grow to understand."

"It's not just him. It's other things, too. I don't want to talk about it."

Clarke had known Octavia long enough that she knew she wouldn't get anything else out of her. Ever since high school, she complained about the small town living and feeling trapped, but she always said that she could never leave Bridgewater. No matter how Clarke tried to wheedle an answer out of her, Octavia was surprising closed mouth about her reasonings.

"So, what do you want to talk about? Who's your new flavor of the week?"

Octavia stuck her tongue out as a plate landed in front of Clarke. "She wants to get back to work," Gina interrupted teasingly.

Octavia laughed and got out of the booth, grabbing a tater tot off of Clarke's plate and popping it into her mouth. "Fine, fine. Duty calls, I guess," she told Clarke. "You sticking around till one? That's when my shift ends."

"I can do that," she replied with a smile before swatting the hand that was reaching for a second tater.

The next week that passed was typical. Waking up, going to the diner if Octavia had a shift and would want a booth she could collapse into whenever she had a short lull, working on sketches for Maxwell, doing laundry, cooking, cleaning, the usual drill. The mundane drill.

Suddenly she needed a change of pace. Get out of her routine. A walk in the woods, that would help. Fresh air, stepping away from "civilization" for an hour or so. She'd come back with a new perspective for the next set of drawings.

Within five minutes she was in her walking shoes heading down the path behind her house and onto the trails. She took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air. Yup, this was exactly what she needed.

The gentle breeze lifted her hair, twirling it around her face and tickling her nose. As she sneezed, a twinkling laugh echoed through the wind and leaves. She turned her turned her head in the direction from which it seemed to come, but it evaporated as quickly as it came. As much as she had grown used to the quiet undertone of natural phenomena, the voices in the rain, the quiet laughter, the flowers, etc., she swore it had been happening more and more frequently as of late.

She shook her head and continued walking and taking in the smells of trees fresh after a rainfall. Then she heard it again, a small giggle that was followed by quiet voices, the twinkling echo of bells adding to its otherworldly feel. Furrowing her brow, she listened harder as the leaves began to rustle louder with a sudden strong breeze. Leaves parted and she saw, not one, but two wisps swirling around each other in a small dance. Clarke's lips parted in a small smile; she almost felt like she was intruding on something special; she had never seen two wisps at the same time.

They stopped for a second before seemingly stepping in her direction and then darting further away. Not thinking, she took a step toward them. They bobbed excitedly and moved a little further. She caught her foot right before she stepped off the trail. Every story she had ever read or saw (aside from Disney's _Brave_ ) told her that she shouldn't follow the will-o'-the-wisps, that they led unwitting people astray, getting them lost or killed.

A third light appeared ahead of the others. She looked around. What was the worst case scenario? She knew these woods like the back of her hand and had a good sense of direction. The chances of her getting lost in here were slim and there weren't any cliffs to lead her off or bogs to drown her in. And it was the twenty-first century, she had her cell if she needed to call for help.

Taking a risk, she stepped off the path and into the trees. There had to be a reason there were more wisps than she had ever seen before. The three orbs darted and danced together leading her further away from the main trail. She followed them, weaving her way between the trees and feeling the rough bark on her hands as she used the trees to help her along the difficult parts of the pristine terrain.

First one orb vanished, then a second, and finally the third. She picked up her pace to find the reason for the disappearances, when a voice startled her. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Princess." Clarke jumped, tripped over her own feet, and landed flat on her butt. She whipped her head to the side to find a man casually leaning against a tree several feet away. "You see that?" He gestured to the spot where she had been about to step, a near perfect ring of mushrooms. "That's a faerie ring. You step into that and you might never come back to this world."

Clarke rolled her eyes as she pushed off the ground to gain her feet. "You're an ass, Bellamy. When are you going to give up on that stupid childhood nickname?"

"I don't think I ever will, _Princess_ ," he emphasized. "The amount of times you and Octavia played faerie princesses _and_ forced me to? Yeah, I'm not letting that go."

"Whatever. You enjoyed it, _Sir Bellamy_."

He didn't acknowledge the name, but pushed off the tree. "What are you doing off the path, anyway? I know you know the rules. And there are plenty of trail signs."

"Looking for inspiration for my sketches. And I followed a deer path," she lied. "It's not like I would have gotten lost in the woods."

"The marked trails aren't just for that," he told her and began prodding her to leave the small clearing they were in. "It's to protect the wildlife, too. Can't have people tromping through the trees, disturbing the animals and their habitats."

"Take only pictures, leave only footprints. Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. I wasn't disturbing anything. And you're off the designated trail, too."

He shook his head with a wry smile. "Except it's my job to maintain the preserve. And to keep people like you safe and on the trails. Now, head on home where you won't make my job harder than you already are."

She looked around and found herself back on a main trail. Apparently she hadn't gone too far off to begin with. "Fine, whatever you say, Ranger Rick," she retorted with a mock salute before heading back up the trail in the direction of her house.

"I'm watching you, Griffin," he warned.

"Don't you have better things to do?" she smirked over her shoulder. His laughter followed her around the bend in the trail as he vanished from sight.

She sighed and looked into the trees. "Sorry, wisps. Perhaps another day."

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 **More Author's Notes:**

 **My beta, TheAmazonian, found a song for this story when we were looking for music inspiration for the title: "Lights," by Ellie Goulding. Alas, none of the lyrics made for a good story title, so it's just here as a little note.**  
 **PS**  
 **I really hate coming up with titles. The title "The Will of the Wisps" was meant to just be a stand in, my own note to identify this story in my folder of stories, but a better title remained elusive at the moment, despite my and my beta's best attempts. Therefore, I will reserve the right to change the title, if some inspiration should strike.**  
 **Also, to make it not quite as boring of a title, in my mind "Will of the Wisp" refers not only to the fae entity itself, but also their will, their desire, to get Clarke to take that step through the veil.**

 **As always, favorites, follows, and reviews are without fail appreciated. Seriously, they make my day.**

 **And if you want, come find me on Tumblr, DracoTerrae9099. It's a bit of a hodge-podge blog, though still mostly The 100/Bellarke (I think), but it definitely follows Bellamy's early mantra of "whatever the hell I want."**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the rather belated posting. I wanted to stay more on top of the story and writing and thought posting the first chapter would make me feel more responsible for keeping up with it. But, apparently I was wrong. For some reason, I just can't get into this story like I thought I would. Maybe it's just the starting over, having to build the plot up from the ground. Anyways, here's the next chapter. You can thank my beta for reminding me I can do other POVs than Clarke, because otherwise this probably would have taken even longer before I updated.**

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Bellamy was walking through the woods, scanning his surroundings. It was his job to do so. Twice over. Though if he really thought about it, he probably only applied to the ranger post because of his other inherited job. No one would ever question the park ranger consistently walking through the forest and checking up on things. It really was the best job he could have to maintain the Blake family's role as gatekeeper. Gods knew, Octavia wasn't going to keep up with it. Even if she was the reason they became the gatekeepers.

He spotted a wisp floating along, not too far ahead of him. They were the bane of his existence as a gatekeeper, always trying to lure people over to the other realm. Damn near got Clarke the other day. And as much as she always talked about the faeries and their magical homeland, he doubted very much that she would be happy to find herself in the dark forests of Arkadia.

"Shoo! Scat!" he told the wisp, gesturing emphatically with his arms. "Why must you and your friends always cause trouble?"

If a wisp could cock its head, that was the attitude Bellamy was getting from this wisp. Sure it looked like a floating ball of light, but Bellamy knew there was more to it. Those buggers had some intelligence to them. They had to, to give him the trouble they always did.

"And what was up with three of you showing up? You usually don't come together like that. Did you think I wouldn't notice that kind of activity in my woods? Didn't think I would catch you before you could lure an innocent civilian into your world?"

The wisps bobbed away from him, headed into the trees.

"Don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you. You know how dangerous Arkadia is to people from this realm. You could kill them if you get them to cross and they're not prepared for what's on the other side."

The wisp drifted further away from him before winking out of existence.

He looked at the ground near where the wisps had disappeared and sure enough there was a perfect little stone ring, the largest of the rocks marked with a small carving. He knelt and picked the offending stone, dropping it in his pocket before kicking the other stones to disrupt the circle. "Goddamn, faeries," he muttered. "Why have you been so much more active than normal? Creating new gateways, changing their locations. You never gave my mom this much trouble. I'm lucky I only have to keep an eye on this forest. I hope you're not giving all the other gatekeepers out there this much trouble…if there are other gates and gatekeepers."

Bellamy shook his head and continued on his survey of the land. Several hundred feet later he bent down to pick up a plastic water bottle. "Goddamn people, too. This is a forest preserve, not your personal trashcan."

"Hey, Bell. How was work?" Octavia called as he walked into their home.

"Same old, same old," he called back. "Faerie rings and wisps making trouble. And, of course, people not respecting the trail."

She groaned in response. "Couldn't you at least _try_ to make it sound interesting? This town is so boring. You'd think being right near a gateway to another world would make it interesting, but nope. Boring as you could get."

He laughed as he plopped down onto the couch next to her and ruffled her hair. "Talk to me, oh greatest of muses. Aid me in telling the story of my day," he began dramatically.

Octavia shoved him. "God, you're such a dork."

"What? You used to love me reading you the classical epics. They all start with an invocation of the muses. I thought it would help you be more interested in my day."

"I have no idea how I'm related to you."

"I was there the day you were born. I can assure you that we are related."

"Sure, but who's to say you weren't dropped on mom's doorstep as a baby and she just felt bad for your crying, pudgy face and took you in? There's no one who can prove that that's not true."

He shrugged. "Either way, you're still stuck with me."

"Ugh. It sucks to be me," she teased. "Well, not brother, I got us burgers from the diner after my shift. They're in the fridge if you want dinner."

Bellamy got up from the couch, pausing when he was standing behind where Octavia sat to ruffle her hair again. "What would I do without you?"

She squawked indignantly and tried to pat down her hair. "Warm up my hamburger, too," she demanded.

"And why would I do that for someone who isn't my sister?" he yelled from the kitchen.

"Because you love me anyway!"

"Eh. Only sometimes."

"Same to you," came the reply from Octavia as she entered the kitchen and situated herself at the breakfast bar across the counter from him.

He got out plates and the burgers and threw them both in the microwave. "Shit, I almost forgot," he muttered to himself, fishing the carved stone out of his pocket and dropping it into the jar of similar stones on the window sill.

"Another one?"

He shook his head. "I don't understand it either. I swear there have been more improvised gates popping up, the mushroom rings and stone circles. I've been finding at least two every week. And the wisps? Don't even get me started. There were three of them the other day."

"You saw three in one day?" she asked, astonished.

"Not just three in a day. Three of them together. And of all people, they were trying to lure Clarke into one of the rings."

Panic flashed briefly across his sister's face. "Shit. Why her?"

Bellamy shrugged, "You know Clarke, she's always wandering on the trails. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm just pissed I didn't find that faerie ring before she almost stepped in it."

"You almost let my best friend get sent to Arkadia?" Octavia's voice raised an octave with the accusation.

"I stopped her before it happened. Would have tackled her to the ground if she had gotten any closer."

Octavia's demeanor abruptly changed as she burst out laughing. "I would pay to see her reaction to that." She chuckled to herself once more, "I can imagine the black eye you'd be sporting. You wouldn't be able to give her a reason and that'd make her even more pissed." She shook herself out of her dream world of Clarke beating on Bellamy. "And the main gate? Anything there? I haven't sensed anything approaching it. Not like Mom said we would."

"I haven't either. And whenever I got to check on it, nothing seems out of the ordinary."

"This is a sucky ass job we inherited. There's no one to even explain what's going on and Mom was always rather tight-lipped about Arkadia."

Bellamy barely withheld his scoff at her use of "we." Bellamy had been gatekeeping since he was eighteen. Octavia had barely put any interest in helping, even after their mom had passed.

"I saw that face, Bellamy. Don't think I didn't. I keep an eye out for things when I go on my runs."

"Yeah, and that's about it," he grumbled.

"What is there really to do? Destroy the mushroom circles when you see them? You just said you only see one _maybe_ twice a week and that's up from normal. With your job you're already patrolling the forest; there's no point in me doing the same."

Bellamy fished the plate out of the microwave and pushed the burger over to his sister. "I said, at _least_ twice a week. That stone," he jerked his head toward the jar, "it's from the fourth circle I've come across in as many days."

"You're just blaming me because it's my fault we're gatekeepers," she mumbled, taking a bite out of her burger.

He heaved a sigh and went to the seat next to her. "You know it's not your fault; you had no control over your getting sick. Mom's the one who went to the fae and made the deal." He pulled her into a sideways hug. "You know I'd rather be stuck with this responsibility and still have you here any day, even if the job is getting harder and more confusing."

Octavia gave him a tight smile. "And there's no way to get in contact with anyone and ask what's up with all the faerie rings popping up?"

"If there is, Mom never told me it."

"One of us could go through the veil and find the fae and ask," she perked up a little bit. This was something she would bring up every once in a while ever since she found out the truth of where they were born.

"That was one thing Mom did tell us: do not under any circumstances cross through the veil unless it's one-hundred percent necessary. And even then think twice before you do."

"But aren't you curious? It's this whole different world. It's where we were born. And Mom barely even talked about it."

Bellamy tried to think back to his own memories, but they were fuzzy at best, a snippet here, and afternoon there; four-year-olds don't have the best memory. "Maybe it was hard for her. She wanted to separate what she had then from what we had here? She told us we shouldn't go back—we couldn't go back, so she didn't want us to know too much about it?"

Octavia huffed a laugh. "Her not telling us just makes me want to know more. I've never dealt well with mysteries."

"Oh, I know. You sneak a peek at your Christmas presents every year no matter what hiding place I find."

"Maybe you just need better hiding spots," she grinned.

Bellamy shook his head, returning the grin. "I thought I had it last year with the old boxes in the garage. You hate going in the garage."

"Not when there are presents involved. Plus, you kept bragging I wouldn't find them, so I had to."

"Ah, the only thing more likely to get you riled up than a mystery is a challenge. I should have known better." The two dissolved into laughter. Their previous conversation left behind.

It was a little over two weeks later when he was driving to the preserve to go on his hike/checkup on the trails when he caught sight of a wisp. He slammed on his breaks. Wisps usually kept to the depths of the trees, what was one doing so close to the edge of the forest? He pulled his car into the nearest driveway, not looking where he was. He knew everyone in town. No one would mind.

Getting out of the car, he started trekking toward the back of the house and the line of trees. It was only when he saw the extensive garden that he realized exactly where he was. Did the wisps have it out for Clarke or something? There were the three of them trying to entice her a couple weeks ago, and now one basically in her backyard? An unsettling feeling began to form in his gut. It only worsened when he spotted a perfect circle of mushrooms just twenty feet into the trees. He rushed forward and circling around the outside, began to kick the mushrooms aside, breaking the circle. Looking up, the wisp was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, Ranger Rick! Why you tromping through my backyard?" Clarke's voice called him out of his concerned musings.

He coughed and turned to look more closely at the garden and spotted the head of blonde among the azaleas. "Thought I saw something."

"It's just been me and the garden since I came out here. Though I did hear a couple bicyclists earlier in the morning," she teased. "Are you on the lookout for some off-trail bicyclists? Because I'm pretty sure they could out-pedal your run."

"Ha. Ha. You're so funny."

Her brow furrowed for a second. "Do you want coffee or something? You seem a little flustered. Did you not get enough sleep?"

He debated for a second. But his mind was still racing with worries about the increasing frequency of the gateways. He swore he found a new one almost every day last week. But with the one literally fifty feet from someone's house? Something was definitely different. He just wished he knew why that was. "Do you have any tea? That might be better." _Calm me down a bit_ , he added in his head.

"Yeah. Of course," Clarke smiled, getting up from where she was kneeling and leading him into her house.

"I have a blackberry sage black tea, a honey ginseng green, and a peach blossom oolong," she told him as she began to fill the kettle with water and place it on the stove.

"The blackberry sage sounds good."

She rummaged through the cupboards and pulled down a tin before gesturing to her small table. He took a seat and waited in stilted silence until she sat across from him, leaning forward on her arms. "So, what's up? Did Octavia mention wanting to get out of Bridgewater? Is that why you're upset? I told her you wouldn't have a problem with it, but she seemed adamant about staying."

Bellamy shook his head. He was about to deny it, but realized it wasn't like he could tell her his actual worries.

She took his silence as confirmation. "Seriously, Bellamy? She's twenty-three years old. She can make her own decisions. You can't tell me you don't see how restless she is living in this town; it's too small for her. She deserves to go out into the big wide world and figure out who she wants to be."

Bellamy opened his mouth, about to retort. Clarke cut him off before he could.

"No. Don't say anything. You know I'm right. She can't keep working at the diner forever; she'll drive herself insane."

Bellamy couldn't help but smirk at Clarke's overprotective side. He remembered when she had used it for Octavia when the two of them were still in elementary school. It was good to see that Octavia had someone else who cared about her as much as he did. He just didn't need this protectiveness directed at him, especially over something he already felt guilty about. Clarke was right. This town was too small for Octavia.

"I'm not the one saying she can't leave this town. There are other things in play here that neither of us have control over."

Clarke took a deep, aggravated breath. "What is with your family and being cryptic about weird things? I've known you for almost twenty years and you're both still close-mouthed about why your family lives in Bridgewater, saying you can't leave. What? Your ancestors take a blood oath to protect the land?"

Bellamy snorted. She had no idea how close she was to the truth. "If we're so close-mouthed about it, it's for a reason," he replied aloud. "Like you said, you've known us for nearly twenty years, you should probably know that it's none of your business by now." Clarke looked like she was about to put her fighting face on; she always was quick to argue. "Look, maybe I should just go," he said, standing up.

Clarke shook her head. He could read her exasperation in the movement. She just wanted what was best for her friend and she couldn't understand what the problem was. "I'll lend you a travel mug," she told him, moving to where the kettle had just begun to whistle.

She wordlessly poured the tea and plopped into a spoonful of sugar and two tea bags, nice and strong, just the way he liked it. She handed it to him, quietly saying, "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"I don't think you've ever apologized for that before," he huffed a laugh.

Her face pinched for a moment before she relaxed it. "There are certain topics I've learned I shouldn't push with you and your sister. That's one of them."

"Thanks for the tea," he said as he saluted her with the mug and headed toward the front door.

"Anytime."

Early the next morning, he headed in the direction of the main gateway. When he and Octavia had been watching TV the night before, he had felt a sudden rush of _something_ run through him and he just knew it had something to do with the veil. Octavia had immediately looked at him with a wide-eyed gaze. "That was something to do with the main gate, right? You felt that, too?"

Bellamy had nodded.

"So, like someone's approaching it from the other side? Should we go out and wait? Intercept them? I vaguely remember that happening once with Mom."

"No. She had been antsy all day leading up to that. She said she could feel someone coming towards it. This was just a sudden blip."

"Maybe one of the wisps was by it. You do say sometimes you feel something from them, too."

It hadn't taken them long to decide to go check it out. They were the gatekeepers after all. But they had felt the blip near dusk, and between the darkness by the time they reached the site, and the light rain that was pitter-pattering down, they had given up on finding anything after an hour of searching and called it a night.

Now, in the light of day he was on his way back with strict instructions from Octavia to text or call the minute he found something. From the moment he left the path, he scoured the ground for any clues. There were plenty of footprints, sure. But he and his sister had crisscrossed the entire area three dozen times the night before.

He growled his frustrations. Something happened last night. He knew it. Octavia knew it, too. But he just couldn't see any evidence of it. Then a thought occurred to him. The small gates, the rings of mushrooms and stones, maybe it had something to do with one of those. Maybe he had missed one yesterday. He returned to the main trail and began trekking down it, keeping his eyes peeled, a nagging feeling leading him in the direction of Clarke's house.

He had destroyed that ring though. He had never seen one pop up in the same place twice. His steps picked up pace. Eventually he saw her house through the trees and went to inspect the area of the mushroom ring. Sure enough, it was in the exact state he had left it, broken and destroyed. He let go of a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

That was until he spotted a trail of small, booted footprints leading into the woods from Clarke's backyard. There were no tracks headed back to the house. He quickly followed the footprints in the still soft mud. They wandered on the trail for a good quarter mile before they veered off into the trees.

With a sinking feeling, he followed them. Then in the mud, just outside a perfect ring of stones, the footprints ended mid-step, leading directly into the circle. His heart was in his throat. That blip he and Octavia had felt, it could have been someone passing through a gateway. It would only take a second for someone to do that. One second for the gatekeepers to feel something off.

He turned and sprinted back up the path toward Clarke's house and didn't even bother to knock before he tried the door. It swung open, slamming into the wall with force. "Clarke!" he screamed. "Clarke! Are you home?"

He ran from room to room, shouting her name as he threw open doors and closets. He even looked under the bed. "Goddamnit, Clarke," he muttered. "Please for the love of all things good in this world and the others, please just be out somewhere in town."

He yanked his phone out of his pocket. _Clarke or Octavia? Clarke or Octavia?_ He pressed dial over Clarke's name. One last stitch of hope before he panicked his sister. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," he muttered, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hi! You've reached Clarke Griffin. Sorry I can't take your call right now. But if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a good day!"

Bellamy growled his frustrations at being sent straight to voicemail. He held his phone in his hand and hesitated over Octavia's name. She was already on edge with not knowing what they had felt the night before. And he knew, he just _knew_ that Clarke had crossed through the gateway. He should have seen it coming with the three wisps luring her away. And then the ring literally in her backyard. But he had been an overconfident idiot who thought he had it under control. He fought the urge to throw his phone against the wall. Octavia would literally murder him if she found out he didn't call her as soon as he discovered Clarke's disappearance. He hit dial.

She picked up halfway through the second ring. "What'd you find?" she demanded, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Please. Please tell me you've seen or talked to Clarke at some point today."

There was silence on the other end of the line, before he heard it clattering to the floor. He was going to take that as a "no."


End file.
